Mahmoud Darwish

((13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008 / Palestinian)

Mahmoud Darwish Poems

1. Other Berbers Will Come 4/16/2014
2. Neighing At The Slope 4/15/2014
3. I Remember Elsayyab… 4/15/2014
4. Cadence Chooses Me 4/15/2014
5. A Song And The Sultan 4/15/2014
6. Mohammed Al Durra 4/15/2014
7. Intensive Care Unit 4/16/2014
8. Brand Of Slaves 9/7/2013
9. I Have A Seat In The Abandoned Theater 9/3/2013
10. On A Day Like This 4/14/2014
11. And They Don'T Ask… 4/15/2014
12. If I Were Someone Else On The Road... 4/15/2014
13. Now, As You Awaken… 4/15/2014
14. A Noun Sentence 4/14/2014
15. No Flag Flutters In The Wind 4/14/2014
16. I Have The Wisdom Of One Condemned… 9/4/2013
17. If I Were Another 9/3/2013
18. He Embraces His Murderer 4/16/2014
19. They Would Love To See Me Dead 4/16/2014
20. As He Walks Away 4/16/2014
21. The Promise Of Liberty 4/16/2014
22. Mural 9/3/2013
23. The Cypress Broke 9/3/2013
24. Nostalgia To The Light 10/28/2013
25. To My End And To Its End... 4/15/2014
26. On A Canaaite Rock At The Dead Sea 4/16/2014
27. Bread 4/16/2014
28. Another Day Will Come 4/15/2014
29. Earth Presses Against Us 4/15/2014
30. A Man And A Fawn Play Together In A Garden… 4/15/2014
31. He Is Quiet And So Am I 4/15/2014
32. The Owl's Night 4/15/2014
33. I See What I Want 4/16/2014
34. The Pigeons Fly 4/15/2014
35. Defiance 4/15/2014
36. Ahmad Al-Za'Tar 9/5/2013
37. The Horse Fell Off The Poem 9/3/2013
38. In Egypt, One Hour Isn'T Like Any Other 4/15/2014
39. The Exiles Don'T Look Back… 4/15/2014
40. Psalm Four 4/15/2014
Best Poem of Mahmoud Darwish

I Come From There

I come from there and I have memories
Born as mortals are, I have a mother
And a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends,
And a prison cell with a cold window.
Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,
I have my own view,
And an extra blade of grass.
Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,
And the bounty of birds,
And the immortal olive tree.
I walked this land before the swords
Turned its living body into a laden table.
I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother
When the sky weeps for her mother.
And I weep ...

Read the full of I Come From There

The Dice Player

Who am I to say to you
what I say to you?
I was not a stone polished by water
and became a face
nor was I a cane punctured by the wind
and became a flute...

I am a dice player,
Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose

[Hata Bildir]